


fifteen+

by moonlighted



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8017417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlighted/pseuds/moonlighted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>none of this makes sense and albus has two years to deal with it. or avoid it. fuck if he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Albus was fifteen when they sent the doctor to tell him and his family that he had two years to live, tops.

His mum went through the works, crying and begging for a cure, a solution, something to prolong it, but no one had the power to grant even her wishes. Dad just stared at them blankly, for a while, like he was thinking really hard, and then he woke up and thanked them and dragged him and Mum out with a clenched jaw.

Lily and James were sitting in the living room when they got home, in different worlds. Lily was playing with their pigmy puff, Jelly, and James was texting his girlfriend or boyfriend or whoever it was those days. They both looked up simultaneously and it only took a second of staring at their mum’s scrunched-up face for them to shoot up and yank everyone into a great big hug.

Later that night his parents dragged him to their bed and made him sleep in-between them.

“I’m sorry,” his mother said, repeatedly. Her hand was cupping his cheek and Albus didn’t have the heart to tell her that her nails were digging into his temple. (She’d see the marks after he pretended to fall asleep. She’d sob harder.)

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” Albus told her, because it was the truth. Mum didn’t give him some random, fatal brain disease. He got that on his own.

Dad laid behind him, gripping his hand like Albus was sand, like he’d slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold tight enough. None of them got any sleep that night. They still asked how they all slept when they got up in the morning.

He didn’t like lying, despite being pathological. “Kinda shitty,” he told them, absentmindedly fixing the sheets.

“Hm,” Dad said. “Me too.”

That morning they all ate breakfast at the table. Dad didn’t go to work, and neither did Mum. Lily kept rubbing her eyes. James stared at him when he thought Albus wasn’t looking.

“Good breakfast, Mum,” he announced to the heavy silence.

“Thanks, Al,” she replied, brokenly.


	2. Chapter 2

Scorpius Malfoy was and had always been Albus’s best friend. Only friend, really. Albus was the Potter disappointment, and Scorpius was a Malfoy. They had things in common, and had been (not so) secretly in love with each other since they were eleven.

Scorpius was pretty kickass, despite being about 137 pounds. He liked to yell at people and get better grades than everyone without even trying. Albus liked almost everything about him, which was pretty rare. Scorpius liked to tell him he was the sole member of the Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy Fan Club. Albus usually just told him he had a shittier name than Albus did.

“Yeah, right,” Scorp would reply. “They could’ve named you Shit-head Potter and it still would’ve been better than Albus Severus.”

Albus loved him a great deal. Naturally, he felt the need to tell him his life was doomed.

“So,” Albus said as soon as Scorpius opened the door to his room, probably having let himself in using the floo. “I’m dying.”

Scorpius scoffed, kicking off his shoes and sitting next to Albus on the bed. “What shitty romance novel is it now?”

The fob watch that Albus liked to carry around sat on his nightstand, ticking almost soundlessly. It was nice to listen to.

"No, Scorp," Albus insisted, his tone light. "I'm literally dying. Got some weird brain disease. Have two years, at most."

"What? No," Scorpius said again, as if that made it any better.

"Yes, I am," Albus insisted, trying to keep his tone light.

“No, you're not,” Scorpius shot back, like he was either about to cry or yell. He still looked wonderful. “This isn’t funny.”

“I know,” Albus replied softly.

Scorpius stared at him with a frown on his face. His blonde, almost white hair fell into his eyes, but he didn’t bother brushing it out. Albus reached his hand out and did it for him. Scorpius tilted his head slightly.

“Shit,” he muttered, blinking rapidly. “Fucking shit. Shitty shit. _Shit_.”

Albus didn’t say a word, just pressed his lips to Scorpius’ and almost cried with relief when Scorpius pressed back. They made out for a while. All he could think of was how pretty Scorp was. And how nice he smelled. Like the library and strawberries.

Then, Albus pointed at the book Scorpius had brought with him and listened as his best friend ranted about it with tears in his eyes.

Scorpius stayed for dinner, and he didn’t leave. Mum set up a mattress for him on Albus’ floor that they all knew he wouldn’t use.

“I love you,” Albus said, as Scorpius made himself comfortable beside him.

“Shut up,” Scorpius told him, and added, quietly, “Me too.”


	3. Chapter 3

The roof of their house was pretty easily accessible. It was the only part of the house Mum wouldn’t follow him. Heights stressed her out or something.

Albus took that precious time to sob until his throat hurt and his eyes burned; until his hands were wet and the sun was falling, hanging desperately in the clouds.

It was the only time he'd let himself cry.

The roof was peaceful because it was a lie, an illusion, but Albus preferred that to facing the truth, even if it did make him a coward. There was nothing to be brave for anyways. He had a lot to lose, and two years to inevitably lose it.

"What'll it be like?" Lily's soft voice came from behind him. Albus sighed. He was annoyed that his hiding space had been discovered, but it wasn't her fault. She just wanted to know.

He'd pretend some more. Just to fill up the space with empty words. "What will what be like?"

Lily pressed her lips thin, her chin trembling. "You — dying. How will you g–go?"

The doctors had gone on a long spiel about how he wouldn't even notice it until the very end, until the magic running through his skin took hold of his brain and destroyed the very thing that held it. Albus didn't think that was preferable. It was like it was lying to him, giving him hope that maybe the end wouldn't come, giving him two years of blind faith in a non-existent cure before ripping him away far too quickly. 

"Quickly," he managed to choke out. "I won't feel anything."

Lily sobbed, stumbling over and sitting beside Albus, pressing her face into his shoulder. Albus kissed her head and trembled. The sun glinted above a row of other roofs, barely visible as it set. The ticking of the watch would not stop playing in his head.

The unfairness of it all took hold of his chest and squeezed. Albus stared at Lily's small figure and his shaking hands and wanted to scream. His heart felt like it'd burst, and maybe the doctors were wrong — maybe the disease was in his chest, and his heart would explode, and maybe it would hurt for just a second before he fell down and forgot everything he ever knew.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered to the crook of his neck, shuddering. 

"I know," Albus said. "Can I tell you a secret? I wish nobody had to stay behind."

Lily shifted. "That's understandable."

"Is it?" Albus asked her. 


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm fairly certain that this is the longest conversation we've ever had," Albus told James. 

The look on James' face made Albus want to cry. But he'd been doing that a lot — taking his anger out on people, on walls, on himself. His knuckles were bruised and the skin on his lip torn from all the biting. 

He was unbelievably frustrated. That had nothing to do with James, though.

Albus swallowed his rage, and let out a short breath, lowering his head.

"I didn't mean that badly," he whispered (he lied). "I'm sorry, James."

They stayed silent, for a while. Albus's room was completely quiet, save for the ticking of his watch, and James' shaky breaths. Light bled in through the curtains, but not much of it. James' features were mostly lost in shadow, but Albus could still see sorrow. Something told him that he'd be able to see it even if he wasn't staring at James.

"It's true," James said finally. "Don't be sorry. We haven't always gotten along. I'm sorry."

Albus smiled sadly. "But I've always loved you. And you've always loved me. We didn't need to talk or get along for that to be true."

"But we should've," James said.

"But we didn't," Albus replied.

They both sat on the edge of Albus' bed. James began to hum the lullaby that Mum used to sing to them when they were little.

Albus trembled, memories of when he and James were little, when Lily was a baby, when everything was alright and there wasn't an amount of time hanging over his head flooding over him like some unforgiving wave, and he was drowning so slowly, and no amount of struggle would ever save him.

His heart broke for the fourth time that week. James wrapped an arm around his shoulder as he let out a sob. James began to cry too, and they sat there, holding each other and wondering why they'd ever wasted time arguing.

"Merlin," James said. "Fuck. If you ever tell anyone about this I'll punch you. I love you."

"Fuck off," Albus said. "I love you too."

They spent the rest of the day playing video games in the living room. If Mum and Dad had anything to say about it, they held themselves back, because Albus and James were like a spider's silk — one of the strongest natural connections in the world, but easily pulled apart by fear of something small and misunderstood. 


	5. Chapter 5

"You have enough time to finish Hogwarts," Rose said.

Albus smiled. That did seem like the sort of thing Rose would think about first. Despite having Ron Weasley as a father, she had inherited nearly everything from her mother, including the fifty-track train of thought, which had a sign that said 'academia' in bold letters at every stop. 

She wasn't being insensitive, though. This was how Rose said 'I love you.' Nothing mattered to her more than her education. It was sweet that she'd even considered Albus.

"I don't know," Albus mumbled back, pulling grass out of the ground. "I might just go fulfill some ridiculous bucket list that includes public sex and circus training instead of studying."

Rose gave him a look, but her lips were curled up nonetheless.

"Might as well die with a degree to your name," she said. "And Scorpius would never agree to have public sex with you."

Albus raised his eyebrows. "What makes you assume I'd ask Scorpius?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "We all know that you two've been in love with each other since you were eleven."

There was a pause. Albus remembered strawberries and libraries and really soft lips. He closed his eyes.

"You have," he breathed, "a point."

Rose didn't say anything for a few minutes. Neither did Albus. He heard the scratching of her quill, probably working on summer homework that Albus had long forgotten. The chirp of crickets seemed unreal, but still completely natural. 

The burrow stood in the distance, looking horribly unsteady. It swayed, almost, as the wind pulled at the creaking walls.

Rose opened her mouth as if she was going to say something. She closed it. Finally, she said, "Just do your homework, Albus Severus Potter."

 _I'm going to miss you_ , he heard.

Albus stood. "I'll go get my supplies."

 _I'm going to miss you too_ , he said. 


	6. Chapter 6

The platform disappeared on other side of the window like a mirror shrouded in darkness. There was a brief moment of darkness before they emerged on the country-side, watching the quaking leaves wave at them as they passed by.

"Albus," Scorpius said in a severe tone. "Before you die, we need to have sex."

Albus raised an eyebrow, biting off another piece of his granola bar. The sun bled through their window, linking itself to his skin with the finesse of a billion ribbons of light.

"Unexpected. Can't say that I disagree. Also, now I owe Rose ten sickles."

Scorpius shook his head. "Not going to question, only going to explain. See, you can't die a virgin. And I love you. Therefore, we should fuck."

Scorpius nodded his head. His face was rather flushed, but he didn't seem to notice. 

Love, love, love. The word felt odd, even in the voice of Albus' mind.

"You cope weird, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy."

"Well, you have your coping mechanisms, I have mine."

"Can't believe it," Albus said. "I'm dying and the first thing you do is attempt to get into my pants."

Scorpius rolled his eyes. Albus took note of the bags under them. He wanted to smooth them out like wrinkled paper. 

"You know I love you more than anything," Albus murmured.

Scorpius frowned. He didn't say anything for a while. Like he didn't know what to say.

"Stop making me like you so much. I didn't work this hard in life to become obsessed with a dumb boy."

Albus pressed his face into Scorpius' neck. "I resent that. The only thing wrong with my brain is that it's got a disease attached to it."

Scorpius let out a wet laugh. "You're a madman, Potter."

"Mad for you, maybe."

Scorpius laughed again.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Teddy's hair turned an alarming crimson, the colour of blood pooling in a sink, and then a gradient of orange and pink, the colour of the border that resided between two halves of a sunset. 

His eyes were glistening, merging between amber and gold.

Albus grinned.

"I mean, fifteen? What are the odds of fucking _dying_ — you know, maybe the deities up above are going to notice this and be like, 'hey, this is bullshit.' You think?"

Teddy looked at him expectantly. Albus merely shrugged, gently strumming Teddy's ukulele.

"There are no deities, Teddy."

Hope was so immensely dangerous. It grew on people, like mold, like a tumor, like an addiction. It made them believe and believe and believe until there was nothing to believe anymore, nothing but sunsets cut in half and lives cut even shorter. 

Teddy scoffed, eyes turning green. "How do you know?"

"There's a lot of bullshit in this world," Albus murmured, plucking the last string and letting it ring. "They didn't stop any of that."

"Maybe they will this time."

"Jesus, Ted. There are worse things than a fifteen year old dying."

Teddy stared at him, running a hand through his hair repeatedly. His bed creaked slightly as he swayed upon it, bedsheets crinkling beneath him. The air looked at Teddy and sighed, swirling around them like a gentle breath.

"You're not a fifteen year old. You're Albus who's my little brother who's fifteen who's dying."

Albus' grin grew smaller. "You're not a god, Teddy."

"I fucking know," Teddy responded quietly. His hair turned black. His eyes remained that same shade of emerald green. 

Silence was the border between their bodies. Albus kept plucking. Teddy kept changing color. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

"Do me a favor, yeah?"

"What?"

"Don't fucking pray when I die."


	8. Chapter 8

Lucy clicked her tongue at him as he sat down next to her at the Slytherin table, her black hair bobbing about as she shook her head.

The sounds of utensils clinking and litres of pumpkin juice sloshing around grounded Albus in the atmosphere that was _Hogwarts_. The bench felt warm against his thighs; he closed his eyes for a few moments and forgot, forgot, forgot.

He opened them.

“Oh no,” Albus deadpanned. “What have I done this time.”

“You got to skip an entire day of school to go play Teddy’s ukulele,” Lucy said, her sparse brows furrowed and her eyes narrowed. “Honestly! Just because you're dying…”

“Merlin, how dare I?” Albus teased, pressing his forehead into his palm and sighing dramatically.

“You're a menace to every institute of education currently in existence.”

“Well, that won't do.” Albus took a bite of toast and gave her a toothy grin. “I'll go back in time and be a menace to all the education institutes of the past.”

“How kind of you.”

"I don't have much time left, Lucy Weasley,” Albus informed her. “I've got to be thorough with my menacing.”

She snorted, flicking a piece of bacon at his face. He picked it up from his lap and ate it, still smiling, so intensely that his cheeks stung.

Lucy liked that, he knew. She liked smiles. She liked _teeth_. She was odd like that.

_Aunt Mione’s parents are dentists! That's fascinating—they must see teeth all day. Smiles, smiles. Endless smiles._

Lucy, he'd say. There's a difference between smiling and just baring your teeth.

_Is there?_

"You know, I thought your boyfriend would be here for your return,” she commented, accepting a copy of the Prophet from a third year and skimming through it disinterestedly.

"He's probably in the library,” Albus mused. “Or maybe he died in a freak accident.”

Lucy looked up at him strangely. “Is that what you're hoping for, or…?”

“Of course not. But it'd be a tad funny, huh? All this time, thinking he's the one having to go without me. And it turns out I'll have to without him for two whole years.”

“Funny,” Lucy said.

“Funny,” Albus echoed.

Lucy bared her teeth. Her hair continued swaying in that constant motion of hers. She looked like a pendulum. 

“I’m telling Scorpius you said that.”

Albus shrugged.

“He'll laugh,” he said.


End file.
